Chapter 34

They agreed on the following Saturday for the trip. Samantha woke at dawn and gathered a haversack of food and other supplies she thought they might require. After saddling her mare and whistling for Sergeant she set off to meet John at the cove a mile from the common beach at the end of Front Street.

She took a little used trail that lead from her farm, through the woods and along a series of ridges until she broke through the trees onto a relatively high bluff. A narrow trail led down to the beach below. This area was really the beginning of the cliffs that grew higher along the coastline. If she could have ridden north along this line, she would eventually end up at her Aunt Isabel’s house, miles away, but she would have to traverse some densely forested and hostile terrain.

She dismounted and left the mare in the field at the top of the trail. There was ample grazing and fresh water available in a small pond. The mare would stay until dark if they were gone that long but Sam figured they wouldn’t be gone more than a couple of hours. If something happened to delay them, the mare would go home. She gathered her gear and headed to the beach, ordering sergeant to guard. He would stay with the mare until she returned.

As she started down the path, she saw John waiting on the beach. He looked up and waved with a grin, his blond hair tousled by the wind and his skin glowing from hours in the sun. This was truly his element. He loved being on the water. Nearby, rested John’s baby, a 14-foot Whitehall with bright red and blue sails. His farm was only a few miles from the beach and he loved fishing. Often he took the boys out on a Saturday to sail along the coast and fish. Frequently, they stay gone all day and return home with a fish supper.

She stopped mid-way and shook the sand from her shoes, knowing she’d have to do it again once she was in the boat.

“Took you long enough,” he said. “Give me a hand shoving off.”

They pushed her into the surf, one on each side, and both hopped in at the same moment. She immediately emptied her shoes again, this time of water and sand, and he set the sail. In a moment, the wind caught it and they slipped along the surface of the water, gradually gaining speed.

“Won’t take long at this clip. I’d say about half a hour or forty-five minutes.”

She didn’t reply but kept her face to the wind, watching the coastline move past. From the small beach they had left, the coast gradually rose, becoming rocky and impossible to scale from the water. They rounded the point and John adjusted their sails. They were now beyond the point where the farm lay and were nearing the border to the Outland. Tall, old growth trees hugged the cliffs and in some places tumbled over the edge leaving barren trunks lodged on outcrops. Vines dropped down, clinging to the cliff face and in some places, forming a curtain of thick green foliage that hid the rocky face of the cliffs.

It was not beautiful, she decided. It was dark and brooding and luring. The urge to approach and rip the vines away to see what they hid was powerful. A flash of blue caught her attention and she let her gaze move up the cliffs to where the trees clung precariously.

“John,” she said. “Someone is watching us.”

He looked at her in surprise and then looked up, squinting. “I don’t see anything.”

“I saw something blue. It’s gone now but it was there.” She scanned the tree line.

“Well, they wear green, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“It was probably a bird or something.”

She raised her brows. “Or something?”

He shrugged and blushed. “Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now. It could just have been someone out for a stroll.”

Slowly, her eyes were drawn upward and then, with raised brows, she looked at John in silence. He turned back to the tiller. There was no need to respond.

They came on the place suddenly. Even Samantha was unprepared for it. John had to come about quickly so they didn’t over shoot their destination. His skill showed when they came to a stop only a few feet beyond. Both of them turned and looked toward shore.

Along this desolate stretch of coast, nestled in a cove, was a beautiful beach of pure, white sand. The cliffs towered above, a fifty yards in either direction. Over time, weather and water had carved out the face until it formed a half-circle that enclosed the beach, sheltering it from heavy winds. In many places, the vegetation from above had grown down and curtained the cliff face nearly to the sand. The encircling arms of the cove sheltered them from any strong winds or storms that could tear them down.

For several minutes they sat quiet, the boat gently bobbing in the water, and studied the beach. The cliff arms encircled it somewhat and the looming cliffs overwhelmed the relatively small beach, creating an optical illusion. If someone unfamiliar with the area were to sail past, it was unlikely they’d even look in this direction. Since it was inaccessible except by sea, the Outland posed no threat and this made it a popular spot for young people daring enough to put ashore to use it as a trysting place. Very few people would come along to interrupt. It was a place that had very little purpose.

John turned the bow toward the beach and they moved slowly into the water of the cove. The waves only slightly softened by the curving arms of the cliffs. He jumped out and pushed the boat onto the beach.

The beach itself was smooth and clear of debris and Samantha remembered the sand was like a fine powder. She slipped off her shoes and carried them in her hand as she walked onto the beach to join him. The sand was warm and she wished she had time to lie down and soak in the sun for a bit. Only once as a teenager had she ever set foot on it. The memory recalled her discomfort at knowing that if something happened to the boat, there was no way off the beach unless you were a Herculean swimmer or unless someone knew you were here and could come get you if you were gone too long.

She moved past John and toward the cliffs. After a moment, she realized John was not following her and she turned to look for him. He stood just beyond where the sand and surf met, his bare feet buried in the sand.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He shook his head and held up his hand. “Listen.”

The wind tugged at her hair and skirt and sand blew gently against her legs. Waves scurried onto the beach and back in a continuous motion. That sound drowned everything else. She strained to hear something else but there was nothing and she sent John a questioning look.

He looked up at the cliff tops, where the trees stood watch. Then, slowly he let his eyes wander all along the face, back and forth. Gradually, his gaze returned to the beach. He frowned at Samantha.

“Tell me again, why you needed to come here.”

She turned in a full circle, searching the sand, the wall of rock, the horizon where the mist sat quietly today. “I don’t know, John. I saw them land there.” She pointed to the center of the beach. “They had brought the boat ashore and had to carry it to the water to push off. They sailed away, into the mist.”

“They were afraid of the tide stranding them,” he said. “Let’s walk. Maybe we’ll find something. People do come here but you’d never know it. It’s almost uncanny how isolated you feel here.”

They strolled along the water’s edge, just out of reach of the tide. “I never liked this beach,” she said.

He looked at her in surprise.

She blushed. “I was 17. I never told anyone about it.” She paused then hurried on, “Nothing happened. I mean it was just a lark that Ryder and I got up to. We pretended we were sailing away to a foreign land and we carried a picnic lunch. We spread our meal right in the middle of the beach. It was lovely but I was uncomfortable the whole time.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe because I knew what I was doing was dangerous or wrong. Maybe because I knew Mama would kill me for going out on the water without telling anyone where I was going. Or because I went with a boy.” She paused, scanning the cliffs. “I felt like we were being watched.”

John followed her gaze but saw nothing he had not already seen. “Did you ever see anyone?”

She hesitated. “No.

“I was frightened, John. In my dream I was frightened.” She stopped and again turned to study the place she has seen the boat in her dream. After a moment, she walked into the water until it came up around her ankles. In her dream she’d been standing in the water and her feet had been as cold as ice. But this water was warm and caressing. She doubted that at night it would be much cooler but she didn’t know. She had stood in icy water and had watched the men shove off and row into the mist. Then she walked out of it onto the beach and moved toward the cliffs.

She turned and stared at the rugged, vine and tree covered cliffs that encircled the beach. Somewhere, in her dream, there had been a dark opening but the reality was that there was no apparent opening anywhere on the beach. It was a half circle of gray stone more or less covered by vines and stubby trees growing in cracks or on small ledges. The vines were actually like green curtains in some places. She closed her eyes and visualized the scene from her dream. The sand stuck to her feet like powder as she moved away from the water and towards the wall of stone.